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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912480">I am that I am; this shall be My name forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevmantle/pseuds/bevmantle'>bevmantle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Agender Bubby, Gen, Jewish Bubby, Jewish Character, Jewish Kleiner, M/M, Not A Game AU, Not AI AU, Trans Bubby, Trans Character, basically its a bubby origin story, because i really really wanted to write something for jewish bubby., by that i mean, i dont think theres anything graphic but will add more warnings if necessary!, involves discussion of the Holocaust, there IS the beginnings of boomer in this fic but not until the end sorry!!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:42:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevmantle/pseuds/bevmantle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Moses said to God, “When I come to the Israelites and say to them ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you.’ and they ask me, ‘What is His name?’ what shall I say to them?” And God said to Moses, “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh (I will be what I will be).”</i>
</p><p>The bush was on fire, but it was not consumed by flames. Bubby wants to see the whole thing go up in smoke.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bubby &amp; Isaac Kleiner, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I am that I am; this shall be My name forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic mostly takes place pre-hlvrai canon. please be aware that this fic involves discussion of fascism and the holocaust between jewish characters. there are no graphic descriptions of harm, but there is mention of the death of family members at the hands of nazis. bubby also refers to being experimented on and tortured in black mesa, but again, there are no graphic descriptions.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time he opened his eyes, everything was distorted. Being inside of a stasis tube would do that to you. He didn’t know what a stasis tube was. Wait—how did he know that he didn’t know that? Well, anyway. He couldn’t see for shit, was the point. Every so often a blurred figure would pass by, stopping briefly to stare at him and scribble down some notes. They were always taking notes. He wondered, fleetingly, if they knew he was watching back. Being in a tube was just...well, fucking <em> boring, </em> was what it was. He’d take what little enrichment he could get.</p><p>There was one scientist, though—for that’s who the figures were, of course—that was more interesting than the others. This particular scientist would always make it a point to nod at him in passing, or offer a greeting. Sometimes, long after everyone else had left for the day, the scientist would come in, sit down at the desk closest to the tube with a coffee, and just <em> talk</em>, rambling about coworkers or deadlines or the broken vending machine in the breakroom. Sometimes the scientist would put on the radio, humming along to the song between tirades.</p><p>He never <em> answered </em> the scientist, wary of being subjected to even more tests and observation if he let on about how smart he actually was, but...it was certainly nice to be spoken to. Nice to be acknowledged. Sure, he was more powerful than anyone could know, but he was still a person. A person who wanted <em> out of this tube,</em> goddamn it! But no—he needed to be patient. His time would come. He just had to wait for the right moment.</p><p>In the meantime, he would continue to observe the observers. Gather data. And, when he was alone, test his abilities. If the scientists came into work the morning after a particularly successful trial only to find a scorch mark where one of the lab computers had been, well, they just chalked it up to typical Black Mesa weirdness and none of them were any the wiser. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work. That particular scientist, however, the one who talked to him—Dr. Kleiner, he had heard someone call him—had taken one look at the burn marks, then looked straight into his tube. If Kleiner did have any suspicions, though, he kept them to himself. No more pyrokinesis for at least the next few days, then—just to be safe.</p><p>A week or so later, after the scientists had all left for the day, he was resting his eyes (he never truly slept. Just closed his eyes for periods of time) when he sensed someone approaching. He opened his eyes to a blurry Kleiner, close enough to touch the glass. He kept his face carefully neutral. <em> This ought to be interesting. </em></p><p>“I know you torched that workstation,” Kleiner said. “There’s no use pretending. Is that your only ability, I wonder?”</p><p>He was able to keep his face blank, though only barely. He <em> had </em> somewhat expected this, after all. But he did wonder why Kleiner had decided to speak to him about it privately, and why he was being questioned rather than forced into another round of tests.</p><p>Kleiner shrugged, paying his silence no mind. “Well, it was a remarkable show of power. You’re quite the specimen indeed.”</p><p>He couldn’t stop himself from puffing his chest out proudly at that. Kleiner zeroed in on the motion. Well, <em> shit</em>.</p><p>“Aha! You do understand me,” Kleiner said, voice exuberant.</p><p>Ah, so the jig was up. “Understand you?” he sneered. “I’m smarter than everyone who works here put together. It’s not my fault no one appreciates me.” The fluid around him didn’t impede his ability to speak, but that combined with the thick glass of the tube added a slight reverberation to his words. His voice, mostly unused till now, was a little hoarse, and he spoke naturally with a Mid-Atlantic accent. Sure, it was somewhat put-on, but he liked it; it was how the characters in Kleiner’s radio plays spoke, so he had adopted it.</p><p>“I knew it!” Kleiner’s eyes shone behind his glasses. “This whole time, I <em> knew </em> you were more capable than you were letting on.”</p><p>“Well, well.” He clapped, slowly, intending for dramatic effect, but because of the fluid, his claps made no sound. “Since you’re here, I suppose I should warn you. I <em> will </em> be torching more than a computer the next time anyone attempts to stick a needle in me.”</p><p>Kleiner’s brow furrowed. “Why would—oh, I see. You think I—no, well, you would. Not to worry. I won’t be telling anyone about your...abilities.”</p><p>He blinked. Then he crossed his arms. “Why?” Unspoken: <em> What do you want from me? </em></p><p>Kleiner smiled. “You said it yourself. You’re smarter than everyone who works here, no? Let them learn on their own time. Or never. Makes no difference to me. Besides, watching them perform their—their tests is always...hard.” Kleiner looked away briefly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed—I’m sure your focus is elsewhere—but I usually try to make myself scarce when they happen.”</p><p>He thought about it and realized that, actually, he couldn’t remember Kleiner ever being present on any of his...bad days. Kleiner would always come in later, to catch up on work alone or listen to the radio or make phone calls.</p><p>Kleiner offered him a sad little smile. “Watching a variation on oneself—a refraction, if you will, being subject to—to what basically amounts to <em> torture </em> is—” He struggled for a moment. “Well. It’s difficult.”</p><p>“You said the t-word, not me.” He paused, bubbles cascading from his mouth. “Wait, wait. Hold on. A variation on oneself?”</p><p>Ah. Kleiner straightened, looking somewhat guilty. “That’s right, I suppose no one would have thought to tell you. You’re a primary subject within the...well. The cloning program.”</p><p><em> Cloning program? </em> So...he was nothing special, after all. “How many?” he asked, voice gone flat.</p><p>“Before you, or currently?”</p><p>He considered the question. “Well, why don’t you just tell me from the beginning.”</p><p>Kleiner hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, well, you deserve to know. There were, let’s see—there were several before you. Three original prototypes, and a few lesser variants. None of them s—ah, none of the prototypes remain. Of the variants...I’m led to believe they’re being held for closer study. But none have displayed any level of—of true awareness.”</p><p>His eyes narrowed. “And now?”</p><p>“Well...you’re the only current iteration of this—this model.”</p><p>“<em>Your </em> model.” It wasn’t a question. “But there are other models?”</p><p>“One other.”</p><p>His mouth twisted into some expression; not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. “Well, let me assure you of one thing, <em> Doctor </em> Kleiner. Despite not being the <em> only </em> version of...your model, I will be the <em> last </em>. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>Kleiner nodded, perhaps more aggressively than necessary. “Crystal. If I can be honest with you, I would almost appreciate that. I almost regret—that is, I don’t much like thinking about my body being—being <em> used </em> by corporate for G-d knows what. And besides, there’s just something about, well, about having people in <em> tubes </em> that doesn’t sit right with me. Especially not when those people look like me...Can’t stomach it. It’s really not what I signed on for when I took this job, besides. I just got...roped in, I suppose. In the interest of science, and all that. Though, the more people tell me that, the less I seem to believe it.”</p><p><em> Hmm. </em> “It’s my body, too. If you think I want to be <em> used </em> any more than you do, you’re nuts.” He eyed Kleiner, who possessed a wiry physique and, he knew, more strength than appeared at first glance. “Anyway, if you’re so against all this, prove it. Let me out of this <em> goddamn tube </em> so I can really do some damage!”</p><p>Kleiner shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”</p><p>“Why not?” To make his point, he started a small fire in the trash can nearest to Kleiner’s legs, causing Kleiner to jump. How utterly predictable. He put the fire out.</p><p>Kleiner exhaled, looking sideways. “Well, I’m certainly not opposed to...helping. But not yet. It’s too early. You’re not fully developed yet. Eventually, if you behave, they’ll start letting you out for field testing. If it’s going to happen...it will happen then.”</p><p>“I’m developed enough.”</p><p>Kleiner laughed at that. “I know you <em> think </em> you are. But your muscles have hardly been used. Once you’re no longer supported by stasis fluid, how will you be able to walk? Run? Fight, if you have to? That’s not a threat, by the way. I know you have little to no reason to trust me, but still…” He trailed off, then seemed to come back to himself. “Besides, what’s another couple weeks, in the grand scheme of things?”</p><p>He had to admit it made sense to wait, even if he was feeling impatient. And it wasn’t like he had much of a choice about whether or not to trust Kleiner, at least for the moment—if he couldn’t trust him, he was sure he’d be finding out sooner rather than later, anyway. “Fine. Another couple weeks. But any more than that, and I’ll be leaving on my own terms.”</p><p>Kleiner gave him a small smile. “I would expect nothing less.”</p><p>“There’s something you can do for me in the meantime, though.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I’m fucking <em> bored.”</em></p><p>Kleiner laughed at that. “I did wonder. Well, how can I help?”</p><p>He let himself float back in the tube a little. “That radio play you were listening to the other day. I was enjoying it. You didn’t finish.”</p><p>“The radio play…” Kleiner thought about it. “Ah! <em> Firebugs,</em> you mean?”</p><p>“How would I know.”</p><p>“Right, sorry. It is the last one I remember listening to, though. The one about the arsonists.”</p><p>“Yes. They light fires.”</p><p>“Are you sure you want to listen to that one?” Kleiner frowned. “It’s not exactly...fun. We could listen to <em> Mercury Theatre.</em> Or <em> Sherlock Holmes.”</em></p><p>He scowled. “What do you mean? What’s not fun about lighting fires?”</p><p>Kleiner hesitated. “Well, it’s...it’s not <em> just </em> about the fires, you see. The fires are—they’re a metaphor.”</p><p>“Fire is fire.”</p><p>“Well, yes, but…” Kleiner searched for the words. “Can I tell you a story about my family? It’s related, I promise.”</p><p>He thought about it, then shrugged. “Fine. Anything’s better than being bored, I guess.”</p><p>Kleiner pulled a chair over to the front of the tube and sat down. He wiped his hands down his thighs, then began speaking. “My family comes from Germany. My zeyde and bubby were born there.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“Ah—it’s Yiddish. Zeyde means grandfather and bubby means grandmother.”</p><p>“Yiddish?”</p><p>“Yes. My family is Jewish.” Kleiner paused. “Actually, I don’t know how much information you were given access to. Do you need me to—”</p><p>“I know what Jewish means.”</p><p>“Yes. Well. My grandparents were born in Breslau, and had lived there their whole lives. My parents were born there, too. It had the third-highest population of Jews in all of Germany before the war, if you can believe that. It’s part of Poland now, though.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. My zeyde owned a bakery...my mother used to say his challah was the best in all of Germany. My parents took it over when my zeyde passed. It was destroyed when—well, on Kristallnacht. I was four...My parents were able to get me on Kindertransport to England a few years later. I bounced around between foster homes for a bit, and then eventually ended up at MIT for school, then I stayed there for work. Now I’m here.” Kleiner stopped and removed his glasses, cleaning the lenses with the corner of his lab coat.</p><p>He floated in his tube, not saying anything.</p><p>After a moment, Kleiner continued. “From what I know, after I got out, my parents took in other Jewish kids from the city, kids whose parents had been—and they were able to help get them out, too, all the way until—well, the Kindertransport program was ended in 1940. But I met kids here and there who had—had met my bubby, said she treated each and every one of them like her own grandchild until the day the Nazis killed her. She was a hero. One of the only things I have left of her—of my family, really—is this,” Kleiner pulled a necklace from where it was hidden under his collar. From inside the tube, only a glint of golden light was visible. “It belonged to her.”</p><p>“That’s all very touching,” he said. “But how does this relate to—”</p><p>“The fires of the radio play,” Kleiner interrupted him, tucking his necklace away, “aren’t fires at all. The fires are <em> fascism.</em> The arsonists worm their way into people’s houses, tricking them into believing that they’ll be safe, that no harm will come to them. Then suddenly...it’s too late. The house is burning down.”</p><p>For once, he was unsure of what to say. “I—” he cut himself off, his brow furrowed.</p><p>Kleiner just looked at him, waiting for him to find his voice. When he did, it came out quiet, almost meek.</p><p>“Is everyone who starts fires a—a fascist?”</p><p>Kleiner gave him a tired smile. “No. Of course not. Fires are powerful things...tools of destruction, yes. But fire is a tool of creation, too. After all, it was the voice of G-d which spoke to Moses from within the bush that burned, and yet was not consumed by flames.”</p><p>“That’s impossible.”</p><p>“Is it?” Kleiner nodded at him. “You can burn. Do you find yourself consumed by flames?”</p><p>He thought about it. <em> Consumption… </em> “Not physically.”</p><p>Kleiner<em> hmm</em>’ed.</p><p>He wanted to ask something else. “Do I have a name?”</p><p>Kleiner thought about it. “Well, you’re me, I suppose. We could call you Isaac.”</p><p>“That’s your name?” At Kleiner’s nod: “No. I want my <em> own </em> name.”</p><p>Kleiner smiled at him again. “Then you should choose it. And you can tell me when the time is right.” He looked at his wrist. “It’s late! I should go, before one of the guards comes along on their rounds. But I hope I’ve kept you entertained enough for now.”</p><p>He nodded, too preoccupied to really answer. When Kleiner stood up to roll the chair back into its place, he leaned forward, reaching a hand towards the glass barrier of the tube. “Will you...come back and talk to me again?”</p><p>Kleiner nodded. “As soon as I can.”</p><p>“We...don’t have to listen to the radio play. We can talk about your family. Or—about the burning bush.”</p><p>Kleiner smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”</p><p>A few days passed. Then a week. He spent the time floating idly in the tube, allowing the other scientists to observe him, gritting his teeth and being compliant when they ran more tests. The whole time, he turned strange thoughts over in his head until they felt familiar. On the night that Kleiner finally came to him, he had his question prepared.</p><p>“Why do you work here, Isaac?”</p><p>“Hm? What do you mean?”</p><p>“Why do you work at Black Mesa?”</p><p>Kleiner blinked. “Well...There’s a lot of access to grant money, for one. And the projects they work on here are—honestly, I don’t know of any other labs in the country doing any kind of similar work. Well, besides Aperture. But not on this level, and without federal funding, no less.”</p><p>“Don’t you ever feel like—” He cut himself off, frustrated. He started again. “They’re exploiting you. And you’re letting them!”</p><p>“How so?” Kleiner tilted his head to one side. “From my perspective, I’m content. I have a good job, I work amongst acquaintances and friends. Things are stable.”</p><p>He hissed in frustration, a steady stream of bubbles leaving his mouth. “Why do I exist?”</p><p>Kleiner blinked. “I don’t think I follow.”</p><p>“You—with everything that happened in your family—work here, <em> knowing </em> that the government of the United States has been directly complicit in genocide since its conception, even going so far as to assist in the rehabilitation of Nazi eugenicists after World War II, and you—you <em> work here and take their filthy money! </em> Worse—you let them take your body! They own you! They own <em> me! </em> And I didn’t even have the choice—the <em> luxury </em> of being able to say no.”</p><p>“Well,” Kleiner shook his head. “I see you’ve been doing some reading.”</p><p>“We all have access to Wikipedia.”</p><p>Kleiner grabbed a chair and sat down. “Now look, it’s just not that simple.”</p><p>“Like hell it’s not! This place is evil.”</p><p>“It’s—don’t be ridiculous, I told you, there are good people who work here.”</p><p>“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” he hissed, “but <em> one </em> of us is subject to regular torture.”</p><p>Kleiner winced. “Yes. Well, you’re right, of course.”</p><p>“Listen,” he snarled, jabbing a finger towards the glass, “You may not care, but I’m not going to lie back and—and let Jewish bodies pile up just so that some government stooge can write a new Wikipedia article on, on <em> tube-enhanced growth patterns!” </em></p><p>“Jewish bodies?” Kleiner sounded uncomfortable. “They’re—well, in a sense, I suppose, but—I’m not sure if clones are—I guess I don’t know. That’s certainly a question.”</p><p>“Listen to me! Life is just one big <em>fucking</em> never ending cycle! We both know it! And no matter what you say about <em>the</em> <em>quest for knowledge</em> and <em>the</em> <em>interest of science</em> there is no government that has ever had the best interests of the most exploited at heart. At least <em>I</em> know that I’m a weapon,” he spat. “So when shit hits the fan—because I’m telling you, sooner or later it’s going to—whose side are you going to to fight on?”</p><p>“I—” Kleiner faltered. “You know, this wasn’t exactly the conversation I had planned on having tonight.”</p><p>He turned away in a huff. “Well, you’re going to have to think about it. Because like I said, when everything blows up, all these people who work here, they’re all going to have the same goddamn excuse: <em> I was just doing my job. </em> And I don’t think you want to be one of those people.”</p><p>“Now, that’s a bit uncalled for,” Kleiner said.</p><p>“I’m only saying it because <em> you </em> of all people should know better!” he snapped, turning around again in a swirl of bubbles. “Because you were raised better than this, and it’s frustrating as <em> fuck </em>to see you act like you weren’t!”</p><p>“What do you possibly know about how I was raised?” Kleiner finally snapped back, standing up to gesture at the tube.</p><p>“Actually I know a whole damn lot,” he said. “Found out after a <em> particularly </em> painful test last week that I’ve got a fuck ton of your memories locked in my head, apparently. Just another piece of my life that doesn’t even <em> fucking </em> belong to me.”</p><p>Kleiner sat back down in the chair, hard. He blinked. “You have—you have my memories?”</p><p>“Yes. I just said that, didn’t I?”</p><p>“How far, um...how far back do they go?”</p><p>It was his turn to blink. “Ah—pretty far back, I think.”</p><p>“Do you—” Kleiner visibly swallowed. “Do you remember them? Zeyde and Bubby?”</p><p>He thought about it. “I think I do. Yes.”</p><p>“Can you…” Kleiner took a deep breath. “Would you tell me what you remember?”</p><p>“I—yes. Hang on.” He closed his eyes, concentrating. His voice, when it comes, is reverent. “She’s there, in the same schmatte she was always wearing then. She’s doing her makeup at the little table. She’s <em> old, </em> certainly, but still beautiful. Vibrant.”</p><p>Kleiner looks wistful. “Do you remember what she did next?”</p><p>He nodded. “She sang the Shehecheyanu, and then when we asked her why…”</p><p>“She said it was because in that moment she had felt the presence of G-d.”</p><p>The two of them were silent for a moment, basking in the memory.</p><p>“I want to help you get out of here,” Kleiner spoke decisively into the silence. “Tomorrow.”</p><p>“Tomorrow? I haven’t left the tube at all yet,” he said.</p><p>“Tomorrow. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. There’s a big test going on, so everyone’s going to be distracted.”</p><p>He nodded. “How?”</p><p>Kleiner leaned forward. “We’re going to swap places.”</p><p>“<em> You’re </em> going in the tube?”</p><p>“Well—no. I have a—” Kleiner looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, but—there’s...a body. To replace you.”</p><p>He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll do what I have to do.”</p><p>Kleiner nodded. “I’m supposed to be running a test with Anomalous Materials in Sector C. It’s a big one, but everything is standard—you should have no problem taking my spot, and you’ll be working with Gordon Freeman; knowing Gordon, he’ll probably be late, but I trust him. Meanwhile, I’ll be laying low at home, and Barney—he’s a security officer, you might have seen him around—will make sure you can get out with no trouble at the end of the day. He’ll be rigging the camera feeds tonight, too, so no one sees us breaking you out. All you have to do is...well, just be me. Admittedly, I was a little worried before, but if you have my memories...it should be no problem.”</p><p>He gave a crooked smile. “Less flashy than I would prefer, but...I think it could work.”</p><p>“Great,” Kleiner stood. “I’m going to get Barney to bring the b—your replacement up. Then we’ll get you out of there. You’ll have to stick around here tonight; just pretend you’re making preparations for tomorrow’s test. I’ll give you all the necessary background and intel.”</p><p>With that, Kleiner turned and hurried out of the room. He was left with his thoughts. He was full of a jittery anticipation. He wondered what the air would taste like once he wasn’t breathing fluid anymore. He wondered if it would taste like the air of his (Kleiner’s?) childhood. He hummed a song while he waited. He lit a stack of papers on fire, then put it out. What did it matter now, anyway? No one would even notice.</p><p>Finally, Kleiner returned with another man—Barney, he presumed—and a large cooler box on wheels.</p><p>Between Kleiner and Barney, they were able to get the machines that took his vitals looped in such a way that nothing seemed amiss. Then they drained the tube, disconnected him, and he was—he was—<em> free. </em></p><p>He took a deep breath of air. It was stale, clearly recycled through the vents; it was nothing like his memories. But it was still one of the greatest things he had ever tasted. And now it would be a memory that was all <em> his.</em> He felt rooted to the earth in a way that was completely new to him. It was...he felt <em> holy.</em></p><p>He reached out, putting a hand on Kleiner’s shoulder to steady himself. They locked eyes, and a kind of understanding passed between them as they began to chant together: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam, shehecheyanu v’kiymanu, v’higi’anu lazman hazeh.” He nearly collapsed with laughter as they finished the blessing, feeling Isaac shaking with him.</p><p>Barney shot him a grin. “Feelin’ good? Boy, you look just like Dr. Kleiner. Spittin’ image.”</p><p>“Here,” Kleiner said, passing him some clothes. “You can put these on while Barney and I fix up your, ah...replacement.”</p><p>He turned to change, taking a moment to just feel the fabric against his skin. He did the zips and buttons slowly. When he finished, he surveyed Barney and Kleiner’s handiwork. The limp form was suspended in the fluid; he supposed it looked alive enough, which was all they needed, at least for a while. He smiled to himself, taking a grim sort of pleasure in knowing that <em> someone </em> would likely be taking the fall for losing him tomorrow. His expression turned somber again, though, as he considered the figure in the tube more fully. Had he had dreams? Memories? Plans to escape? He placed a hand against the glass, marveling at how different it felt to be standing on this side for the first time. He felt Kleiner touch his shoulder.</p><p>“Barney will bring you to my place tomorrow evening,” Kleiner said. “We can say Kaddish then.”</p><p>He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.</p><p>“Think that’s my cue to get back to my post,” Barney said, giving a little salute. “See you gents tomorrow. Best of luck to you, Doc and, uh…” He paused, not sure how to address him. “Doc.” He flashed an apologetic smile, then disappeared down the hall.</p><p>Once Barney was gone, Dr. Kleiner turned to him. “Did you ever decide on a name?”</p><p>He hesitated before answering. “Yes. But I’ll tell you when I see you tomorrow.”</p><p>“I’ll hold you to that,” Kleiner nodded. “Oh...and there’s one more thing.” He reached behind his head, unhooking the chain that hung around his neck. “You should wear this,” Kleiner said as he handed the necklace over. “For completeness’ sake.”</p><p>“Are—you’re sure?” He held his breath.</p><p>“Yes. Absolutely. You can return it to me later. Besides, you...you’ve got as much claim to it as I do, anyhow.”</p><p>He wasn’t so sure of that. But it was already around his neck, a comforting presence under his collar at the hollow of his throat. He nodded, then leaned in to embrace Kleiner once more. “Thank you, Isaac,” he said.</p><p>Kleiner shook his head. “Really, it’s the least I could do.” He headed towards the door, then paused. “Good luck. Im yirtzeh Hashem, I’ll see you in the evening. Try not to burn the whole place down.” Kleiner winked, then left him alone with his thoughts.</p><p>He spent the night wandering the halls, marveling at how many doors opened with a flick of his (Kleiner’s) key card. He ran into Barney once or twice while the guard was making his rounds; the two shared polite nods, and nothing more. Eventually, perhaps inevitably, he stumbled upon another room that housed a different stasis tube. He studied the machinery for a moment, then replicated what he had seen Barney and Kleiner do for him. The figure that emerged shakily from the tube was stouter than him, with fluffier hair and a large mustache. He felt his heart flutter.</p><p>“Hello!” the figure greeted him with unabashed glee. “Wonderful to meet you! My name is Dr. Harold P. Coomer, PhD! I possess a wide variety of physical enhancements! Would you like to hear about them?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said, feeling his face heat up. “Not right now, though. Put these on. I’m breaking you out.”</p><p>“I do love a good jailbreak,” Coomer said with a dreamy sort of sigh as he accepted the proffered clothes, which had been stolen out of an unlocked staff locker. “Might I ask the name of the gracious rescuer who has come to my aid?”</p><p>He thought about it for a moment, pulling the necklace free from his collar to tug at it gently. His lips curled into a smile as he said, “Bubby. My name is Bubby.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i tried to hopefully make this as canon compliant w hl as possible (which lets face it is kinda hard when ur also writing for hlvrai lol so i guess its a bit of a crossover? AU?)... anyway ive never played any of the hl games but ive been reading a lot abt kleiner and have watched some parts of hl2 so hopefully its not too out of character (n sorry if it is lol). anyway i just really really really wanted to explore jewish bubby origin story bc.. i am jewish (dunno if i need to put that disclaimer but dfgbdfsjhg)... anyway i would love to see more jewish hlvrai/hl content in general cries</p><p>pls kudos or comment if u enjoy! it rly means a lot.. like i did so much research for this fic and i did MATH to make sure things lined up in the timeline like u dont even know lmfao</p><p>my hlvrai sideblog is (predictably) over on at <a href="https://jewishbubby.tumblr.com/">jewishbubby</a> if u wanna say hey!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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